


Agents

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, M/M, Road Head, Sastiel - Freeform, light roleplay, slightly public groping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel takes Sam's instructions a little too literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agents

“Business is business,” Sam remembers saying to Cas that morning while they're pulling their suits on, remembers the cute furrow of Cas's brow that lead him to explain that what he _really_ meant was that they had to play at professionals, had to play at being feds who were _not_ fucking, not even attracted to one another, necessarily. 

“Like, roleplay?” Cas asked and Sam wished he didn't phrase it that way but he was right, so Sam said yes, doled out their new badges and couldn't resist tugging Cas against him while the angel surveyed his faux credentials with all the seriousness in the world. Sam kissed him hard and insistent, maybe the last time for a few hours so he was going to make it count. Cas protested a little, said he was getting into character and Sam rolled his eyes, smacked him on the ass (that ass in those dress pants never fails to attract his hands) and steered him out of the room.

It's nightfall now and they're stuck at the tiny police station waiting for a buttload of files from the messiest stacks in the world and Sam is really regretting the whole  _business is business_ thing because Castiel is fucking gorgeous in the dim light of the interrogation room, suit jacket on the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie loose, collar down a button. His hair is all combed perfect and to the side, at odds with the stubble shadowing his jaw and trailing down his neck. He hasn't broken character once; when Sam asked him not-so-subtly if he needed to use the restroom, Cas shook his head and declined and went back to work; when Sam suggested they go out to the Italian place they saw around the corner, Cas said he wasn't hungry and that the place was a bit too romantic for two business associates; and finally, when Sam cornered him in the leaky basement, Cas shrugged it off with a pensive look and a pat on Sam's forearm as he shuffled past.

So now Sam's getting creative, picking up his chair and setting it down beside Cas so they're on the same side of the table, so he can look over Cas's shoulder and pretend to read the same files they've been through and through. But mostly, it's so he can press his thigh against Cas's and blow a hot breath against his neck, pressing closer when Cas tries to scoot away with the most adorable confused look.

“Agent-” Cas tries, stammers it out.

“Agent,” Sam says right back, dips his hand down to grab the widest part of Cas's thigh and squeeze, long baby finger brushing ghostly against Cas's balls. “I know you want to plead ignorance, but I've seen you looking.”

Cas swallows hard, breathes out shaky and lowers his eyes to watch Sam's hand, creeping higher until he's got Cas's soft dick cupped in his palm, squeezing ever so slightly. “I-I think you're mistaken, Agent Phillips. You're tired, and-”

“Not mistaken,” Sam says, edge plain in his voice, chair legs scraping the floor when he scoots even closer, squeezes even harder and lifts one corner of his mouth in a smile. Cas is getting hard against his hand despite the whole show, his dick firming up against Sam's big hand, and Sam trails his index finger down the fly, just enough to make Cas hitch out a breath and twitch up against him. “See, Agent Stadler? You can lie all you want but that dick can't.”

It's a little cheesy, Sam knows that, but it's all he has left and it's  _working_ . Cas is practically panting, eyes drifting from Sam's teasing hand to his quickly bulging pants and finally to Sam's face, and that's where he loses it.

“Sam,” Cas pitches forward and groans, presses his own hand against Sam's to increase the contact, rutting up against his partner's firm palm. “Sam, let's go.”

“Yeah?” Sam breathes out the question, still all dangerous edge but a hint of amusement now, leaning in and nuzzling along Cas's jaw. “If I knew it was that easy-”

“ _Please_ ,” Cas reiterates, eyes fluttering open and closed so Sam can feel his eyelashes against his cheek, beautiful and light and all he wants is to feel them blinking against the flat of his hips just then, and Cas is right there with him. “I thought we couldn't – I was just - “

“I know, baby, you were being so good,” Sam presses his lips soft against the space just below Cas's ear, dotted with stubble and full to bursting with the angel's beautiful smells. Cas  _likes_ the praise, always does, groaning low, dick throbbing against Sam's palm. “Gonna reward you,” he promises, “Gonna let you suck my dick, gonna paint your face up so pretty, Cas, just how you like it.”

Cas groans loud enough that someone actually knocks on the door and asks after them, and after that, they shuffle out the back door with their hands clasped together and their coats held casually over their hips. They make it back to the motel eventually, but not before Cas virtually undoes Sam in the front seat, while he's driving no less, and Sam makes good on his promise, popping his dick out of Cas's perfect mouth just before he comes so he can shoot all over his plumped up lips, onto his cheek, into the side of his hair. For the rest of the short drive, Sam watches from the corners of his eyes while Cas traces his fingers through the sticky mess and collecting it in his hands, nearly making Sam run a red light when he cleans his fingers off like an eager cat, moaning with the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.


End file.
